A/N: God, what IS wrong with me? But, well, twins are hot. So here's my warning: rated "arrrr" for pirate-related content. No, I'm kidding: it's rated R for all of the twincest, sex, and foul language.
Anyway. Man, don't you just love twins? If you don't, get the hell away. Please. 'Cause I happen to love them more than anything else on this world, except maybe twins covered in orange-flavoured, expensive dark chocolate. Licking it off each other. (You'll soon discover I have a dirty, dirty mind. DIRTY. X3) So, uhm, flames are funny so I won't discourage them. I will highly EN-courage positive feedback, as well. The more you review, the faster I write chapters, folks. Unless of course writers block hits me like a bag of bricks. Which, if you've ever read anything by me BEFORE, you'll notice happens quite a lot. That's where you come in, dear readers! R&R and earn my love forever!
Oh yeah, also: I'm only going to say this once per story, so. I don't own any of these characters or anything. D'uh. Stupid.
Chapter One: Oh Sweet Dreaming
It was fingers and lips and silken skin and heat and it was Heaven. This was angelic chorus, sweet ambrosia; this was what they had so long been wanting/fearing. Lips met, parted, roamed over taught, sweaty skin. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and they were the same, right down to the delicate latticework that framed dark pupils. Same, same, same; they were the same person, and yet not. They were halves, and now they were fitting themselves back into a most perfect and joyous whole.
I love you, oh, how I love you, this fell again and again into the night from voices that blended into one. Oh Fred. Oh George. Please please please please don't ever stop being in love with me.
Never ever Fred/George said. Not ever. I promise.
It was a kiss, it was more. It was fingers and lips and silken skin and heat and it was…
…And it was all a dream. Both twins awoke at the same time, identical eyes opening at once. Both lay very still, unwilling to break free of the dream that had gripped them both. Fred liked this time best, before the reality of the world sunk in and he could still hear George's voice whispering his name, still feel the ghostly traces of George's touch. George always liked the time just before falling asleep the best, when he could hear Fred's gentle breathing so close yet so far away and his mind was free enough that he could imagine so hard that it was real. In this, they were different. In this, they were the same.
"Fred?" It was George who broke the silence. Fred feigned coming to wakefulness, all the time knowing that it was unlike George to be so easily deceived.
"…Nevermind." George had no idea what he had meant to say. Something meaningful, he was sure, something important. It slipped away from his tongue now like a fish darting out of the shallows to safer depths. He could not tell if what he felt was relief or disappointment. Fred sat up on one elbow and looked across the two-foot divide with a puzzled expression on his face. (They had not shared a bed since they turned thirteen—they had given no explanation, just moved apart. Their parents thought they had just outgrown the need for each other's company. Oh, if only.) The puzzlement turned to admiration, and he dropped his gaze blushingly as he realized this. He prayed to any god that would listen that George had not seen. "We should go downstairs and eat, eh?" Fred inwardly sighed with relief. He hadn't seen.
"Yeah, sounds good. Jammy biscuits?" What they ate didn't matter, but Fred was desperate to change his train of thought. George pretended to contemplate this, perhaps understanding without understanding, Fred thought. (In truth, George was just as desperate as he.)
"Peanut-butter on toast," they said together. Fred laughed, and some of the uneasiness the dream always left him with broke up and fell away. They both got out of bed and dressed, carefully averting their eyes from each other while at the same time trying to make it look like that wasn't what they were doing. They clattered down the stairs and their hips brushed with a purple-electric-fabulous crackle.
"Hogwarts today," George said, trying to ignore his hips while his mind was screaming at him, (THEY HAD TOUCHED THEIR HIPS TOGETHER AND IT FELT SO GOOD) "Did you pack?" (…TOUCHED! THEY HAD TOUCHED! OH GOD, OH GOD…! THEY HAD…) He knew the answer—they had packed together.
"Mmhmm," Fred responded noncommittally. His fingers worked nervously over the pocket of his jeans, wanting to stray to that spot on his hip but not allowing themselves to.
"Do you think we'll get a lot of homework this year?" George asked. (…TOUCHED TOUCHED TOUCHED…)
"Mmm." George raised a copper brow.
"I got kidnapped by Martians last night. They anal-probed me. I kind of liked it."
"Hmmm—Wait, what?" Fred squeaked. George's grin was loose and easy. (Much like his pants, Fred's mind interrupted. No, no, bad, bad Fredsie…)
"Just making sure you're listening. Are you okay? You seem kind of… out of it."
"Mmm." Fred rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just kind of… distracted."
"By what?" Fred blushed. How could he explain without actually explaining?
"…Just… Dreams." George nodded like he understood. (Did he?) They said nothing more until they were on their way to the platform several hours later, and then it was only harmless comments about the weather and where to sit. Instinctively, they both chose their own compartment. Normally, they would have shared with Lee, but today felt… special to them. Neither could account for it to the other, but they agreed so it didn't matter much anyway. After half an hour, Fred broke out a bag of Bertie Bott's, and George grabbed some chocolate frogs. They shared the snacks in silence until George bit down on a strangely flavoured bean.
"Augh, gross!" he moaned, spitting it out onto the floor. Fred wrinkled his nose and looked at George. "Snot," he explained in a horrified tone. Fred nodded, and then laughed. George stared resentfully at Fred for a moment, but then he joined in. It felt good, they both thought, to laugh together like that. Fred's gaze wandered to the window as he continued to chuckle a little bit.
"Oh, George, you have to see this!" Without thinking, George leaned over Fred's shoulder, his back pressed up against his brother's. Great thunderclouds had gathered on the horizon, making the entire sky look flat and the landscape below look somewhat two-dimensional as well.
"Amazing…" George breathed. It was then that Fred noticed just how close they were. He could feel George's hot breath spill out onto his neck; the hairs there rose. He shivered slightly as he felt the not entirely unwelcome heat of his twin's body at his back. He so wanted to savour this moment, but he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to contain himself, so he reluctantly said George's name.
"What? Oh." Turning a hot shade of red, George backed away and sat down. "Er, uhm… sorry." Fred shook his head and mumbled something that was either "it's alright" or "it's mall-blight". George was almost certain it was the former. They rode in uncomfortable silence for the rest of the trip.
A/N: So? How was it? I know, I know, it was pretty suck. But please keep reading, as I promise that there's tons of snogging and such. And, as long as no one reports me (snarky! Evil! hiss) I never balk when I have my boys screw. TRUST ME. . So love me for that and keep reading, yes?